


And every night my mind is running around

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dream Sex, Light BDSM, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Maybe A Little Plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Nogitsune
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3455111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles sat straight up in bed with a gasp, looking around wildly. His dad stood in his doorway, watching him with concern. He reached over and slapped at his alarm clock until it turned off.</p>
<p>"You okay?" John asked. "Trouble sleeping?"</p>
<p>"No, just a really weird dream."</p>
            </blockquote>





	And every night my mind is running around

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt #109 "Harness" at fullmoon_ficlet on LJ.

Stiles was blindfolded.

He was restrained, although not uncomfortably. His feet fit perfectly in the stirrups. His hands were tied to the chains over his head.

He could feel a breeze against his ass, that was hanging out for anyone to see. 

He could picture in his head what he was in and felt a zing of excitement, edged with nervousness—a harness.

He couldn't hear anything but knew someone else was there, somehow. He was warm and comfortable, but growing frustrating from waiting. 

Finally he knew they were coming. One second they were just a presence and the next they were touching Stiles, running their hands up and down his legs and abdomen. They were standing next to him, instead of between his legs where he wanted them.

"Please," he mumbled, finding his lips thick and voice almost disembodied.

"No," the person, a man, said sternly. The voice was commanding but familiar, somehow. Stiles didn't feel at all uneasy with the situation, felt his body relax a little. "This is a lesson in being quiet." 

Stiles thought a ball gag would follow but instead he felt a finger drag over his lips, the tip lingering long enough to slip into his mouth but only long enough for him to get a taste.

Stiles waited as the man moved away and circled around him. He could sense where he was as he moved, despite being almost silent. He made no footsteps, breathing under control. 

When the man touched him again he finally stepped between his legs and pressed a hand there, cupping his balls with a warm palm. Stiles inhaled through his nose, mindful that he wasn't supposed to make any noise himself.

But he wanted the man to make noise. To murmur and comment and _say something_.

The hand on his cock circled him loosely and began to stroke him gently. Stiles's mouth dropped open and he breathed heavily, clenching his fists to stop himself from speaking.

"The only thing I haven't decided yet," the man started. "Is whether to fuck your mouth or your ass first thing. You've been so good so far but I don't trust you to keep quiet for long, Stiles."

_So, obviously you know me, then,_ Stiles thought and grinned at successfully keeping the words to himself.

"I heard that, Stiles," the man spoke and Stiles could hear the smile in his voice, even though his tone was disapproving.

_Are you psychic?_ Stiles thought, feeling his eyebrows furrow in concentration, like he was trying to force his words out.

The man laughed. "No. This just isn't what you thought it was."

"What is it, then?" Stiles asked, before he could stop himself. He expected a sharp reprimand in reply, maybe a spank, but instead there was—

A loud blaring?

"Stiles, you getting up, son?" 

Stiles sat straight up in bed with a gasp, looking around wildly. His dad stood in his doorway, watching him with concern. He reached over and slapped at his alarm clock until it turned off.

"You okay?" John asked. "Trouble sleeping?"

Stiles took a breath, felt his heart beating wildly and his cock straining in his pj bottoms. He shook his head and thanked every deity he knew of that his blankets were bunched around him, preventing any awkward father-son encounters. "No, just a really weird dream."

"Nothing bad?" John persisted. He kept his tone light but Stiles could tell he was flashing back to those nights when he woke screaming in his father's arms.

Stiles shook his head and smiled. "No, nothing bad. Just your regular, run-of-the-mill being chased by the Hamburgler dream."

John's shoulders sagged with relief. "Thought you grew out of those." He turned to leave, waving his goodbye.

"Me too," Stiles muttered. "Have a good day!"

Stiles flopped back in bed and waited until he heard the front door close and his dad pull out of the driveway before reaching for his lube, hidden behind some books in his headboard. A little slick and a couple quick pulls later Stiles was gasping and coming into his hand, exhausted enough to want to fall asleep again.

But he pushed himself up and made a beeline for the bathroom where he stripped down and threw his messy pjs in a pile. He showered quickly, trying to keep any thoughts of his dream out of his mind.

***

Stiles' only saving grace was that it was summer and he only had a part time job while he was home from college after junior year so he could take distance courses to count towards his degree. As it stood he was already going to graduate a semester early thanks to the previous two summers doing the same thing.

He spent most of the day half-hard because every time he let his mind wander it went straight back to his dream and he didn't think his dick could handle that much chaff from jerking off. He felt like he was thirteen again.

His tally for the day was five, once he tugged one out just before collapsing into bed at the end of the night. 

Surely he'd get a good night's sleep tonight.

***

Stiles woke slowly, warm and content. There was a solid weight over his ribs from behind, holding him down loosely. He knew he didn't want to wake his bedmate so he slipped out carefully. He grabbed a pair of flannel pants from the floor, knowing they weren't his, and tugged them on as he descended the stairs slowly.

He yawned and scratched his belly as he walked into the kitchen, lit with the late morning sun. He felt like he was on auto pilot, pulling out a griddle, spatula and mixings for pancakes.

It wasn't until he was mixing the batter that he realized this wasn't his kitchen, wasn't his house at all, but it didn't phase him. He felt at home here, like nothing was out of place in the least.

He puttered around, starting the coffee maker and pulling the flavoured creamer from the fridge because he knew the man upstairs in bed liked it in his; a little known secret that Stiles was the only one outright privy to. He looked through the fridge that wasn't his and grabbed some bacon and fruit, grabbed the jug of milk and chugged directly from it without hesitation.

Everything felt so _right_ even though Stiles knew it was all wrong wrong wrong.

He tended to the pancakes, flipping the first batch just as the coffee maker finished percolating. He heard a thump from upstairs and smiled. 

Soon enough there was a sleep-warm body pressed against him, totally naked. Arms snaked around to his chest and covered his pecs, then fingers pinched at his nipples lightly, drawing a gasp from Stiles. His body jerked and his ass rubbed up against the hard cock behind him.

"You wore me out," the man rasped into his ear, still thick with sleep. "I didn't know you were gone until I smelled the coffee."

"Glad to know I can still keep you on your toes," Stiles replied with a smile, thrusting back a little and drawing a low growl from behind him. The fingers on his nipples tugged harder for a second before trailing down his chest, his abdomen, to the top of the flannel pants that were just barely holding up as it was. 

Within seconds the pants were pooled at Stiles' feet and then they were hot skin to skin, already grinding against each other. Stiles clutched at the hairy forearms that wrapped around him, urging those hands—those strong hands—down to his cock that was already reaching full hardness.

"Mmm, not this time," he rumbled behind Stiles. But Stiles didn't have a moment to break and beg to be jerked off because the man behind him was on the floor with the pants and he was spreading Stiles' cheeks. Stiles gasped and leaned forward to grip the counter. When he felt a tongue lick down between him and circle his entrance Stiles reached out to pull the cord for the griddle out of the wall quickly. 

Pancakes could wait.

Stiles could feel how loose he already was as the man's tongue worked in and out of him easier than expected. He could feel slick leak out of him and he knew it was come, left over from the night before. A pleased rumbling sound made him feel warm all over, knowing he made his mystery man happy. Stiles rolled his head on his arms, resisting the urge to thrust backwards. He knew it wouldn't make any difference in how quickly things moved.

He could feel the tender skin of his ass cheeks start to burn from the man's beard and felt his cock jump at the very thought of what was happening to him. He imagined his face, sloppy and sticky from Stiles' ass and their activities the night before, shiny from the spit and come and lube.

"Please," Stiles bit out, sounding broken to himself. His legs shook from the effort of keeping himself up.

The man behind him sat back on his heels and smoothed a hand down Stiles' back. "Fuck," he panted out. He stood up and spit on his hand and Stiles knew he was lining up with his hole. "I'd make you wait but I can't make myself."

"Fuck me," Stiles breathed and whined when hands held his hips still, tight enough that Stiles knew he'd have familiar-looking bruises form by the end of the day. 

It was agonizingly slow while Stiles waited for the man to push into him, until he couldn't wait any longer and he pushed backwards because they both knew his limits but Stiles was impatient and the man behind him was overly cautious.

They both groaned when Stiles was pressed flush back. The man wrapped his hands around Stiles and held him upright and close while he started to thrust. It was sloppy and uncoordinated and Stiles wouldn't have it any other way. He dropped his head back against the guy's shoulder while his eyes fluttered closed and his mouth dropped open to gasp out grunts and curses. 

One particular thrust made him jerk and he cried, "there there theretherethere!" His partner listened and ground up against him, hitting that spot evenly every time. Stiles reached down to stroke himself but his hands were batted away and made useless while the guy broke him apart in every way possible. Stiles let his head roll sideways on the firm shoulder and allowed himself to be used like a doll. 

He was starting to overheat and feel like his body was coming undone when his orgasm hit him, fast and sudden. He yelled out, clenching around the cock in his ass and rode the intense waves right through the guy shuddering around and coming inside him.

They were both shaking when they finished and Stiles winced when the guy pulled out, partly from the sensation and partly because of the emptiness. It didn't last, though, because he was pulled down to the floor with his partner, tugged between his legs while he sat against the cupboards. 

They were breathing heavily, sweaty and messy everywhere. Stiles knew if he looked up he'd see his come on the drawers but couldn't bring himself to care. 

"Shower?" 

"But pancakes," Stiles moaned, remembering his abandoned breakfast.

"Pancakes then shower?"

"Mmm, shower then pancakes in bed, then shower again?" Stiles replied suggestively. He leaned back to finally see his mystery man—

Stiles gasped and jerked out of sleep, suddenly very awake and very aware of the fingers in his ass. He felt sticky and sore as he got his bearings.

He was in his room. In his bed. His own fingers were in his ass. And he needed to change out of the boxers he'd apparently come in. Stiles slowly pulled his fingers out, grimacing at the tug and the coolness between his legs as he sat up. 

It was barely 6am but the sun was shining into his room thanks to eastern exposure. He'd never get back to sleep now.

If he could ever sleep again, that is.

Because the guy in his dreams— _of_ his dreams, it would seem—was Derek Hale.

***

He was jumpy and exhausted.

The pack was beginning to notice something was up with Stiles but he didn't dare breathe a word of it to anyone. Not even Scott who would probably say something like, "Maybe it's time you just say something to Derek." 

Stiles didn't need any suggestions, rational as they might seem to some, like that.

But everyone was starting to notice and he knew he was starting to worry them, too. He was starting to worry himself. 

What if it was something from the nogitsune, rearing its ugly head again. Making him go crazy by giving him the most vivid, pleasurable dreams of his life. Maybe it was a spell? Maybe he touched something that was making him hallucinate. 

"What are you saying?" Lydia asked, and Stiles looked up, surprised.

"What?"

"You're mumbling."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're talking about hallucinations, a spell?" Lydia leaned in. "Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

They were standing at the edge of the impromptu training circle in the preserve where Derek and Scott were going over fighting techniques and distraction tactics. 

Distraction? Stiles had that in spades.

Derek's abs. Derek's arms. Derek's legs. Derek's ass. Derek's fucking _face_.

"Stiles," Lydia tried again.

"I'm fine, I promise," Stiles replied with a wane smile. "I'm just… uh, not sleeping?"

And just like that, every werewolf looked over at him and Stiles realized just _how_ worried the pack was. Because they were all listening in on the conversation, waiting for a sign that Stiles was or wasn't really okay and that something might need to be done. 

"Not like _that_!" Stiles yelled and waved his arms at everyone but his face heated up and he couldn't look at Derek. "I just have a lot on my mind," he muttered and looked at the ground.

Lydia grabbed Stiles' hand and pulled him with her until they were far enough into the woods for no one else to hear them. She pushed him against a tree and stood with her arms crossed, staring him down.

"Tell me."

"It's nothing _bad_ ," Stiles said, waving his hands. "Just… weird."

"Stiles, that tiny beta wolf out there," Lydia started, jerking her thumb at the clearing and referring to Liam. "Actually managing to get up the balls to ask a girl out is weird. Clarify, please."

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Stiles replied. "Yet." Lydia looked like she was going to push it. "Please, Lydia. It's nothing bad, I promise."

She pursed her lips and looked at him closely, then nodded. "Okay. But you can't hold out forever."

"State secrets don't stand a chance against you, Lydia," Stiles replied wryly.

"Damn right."

***

His pillow was breathing.

Or, rather, what he was using _as_ a pillow was breathing. And that thing happened to be a wolfed out Derek.

Stiles rolled his head back and forth against the soft fur of Derek's side, listening to his slow, steady heartbeat.

"This is new," he murmured and Derek raised his head to wuff lightly, as if agreeing.

The sun shone down on them in the preserve, heating Stiles' skin. He sat up and tugged his shirt over his head, laying back with his bare back against Derek. 

"What?" He asked at Derek's knowing look, giving him the raised eyebrow even fully wolfed out. "I'm warm. _Hot_ even." Derek rolled his eyes but within seconds he was shifted back to human and repositioned himself so he could half sprawl on top of Stiles, pillowing Stiles' head with his right forearm.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck and welcomed the soft, deep, long kiss Derek offered. Stiles could feel Derek's cock harden against his hip, through his jeans, but neither of them needed to rush this.

Stiles welcomed Derek's weight against him even though he was being pressed into the ground and it was kind of itchy against his back. It wasn't the worst place they'd been together, though.

Stiles mulled that over in his mind as he broke the kiss and pressed his lips to Derek's chin and cheekbones and eyebrows and…

There weren't any other places. 

Stiles' kisses trailed off and he looked up at Derek with a strange expression.

"What?" Derek whispered, smile playing at his mouth.

"This is weird," Stiles said and it triggered something in him.

_Weird_. 

And he realized.

"I wish this was real," Stiles whispered, brokenly.

"What do you mean?" Derek asked, confused. "This is real, Stiles. What do you mean?"

Stiles smiled sadly and ran his hand over Derek's face, cupping his jaw while Derek let his free hand drift down Stiles' body to his half-hard cock.

"It can be real," Derek said and squeezed Stiles through his jeans.

He jerked and cried out.

***

Stiles sat straight up in his bed with a gasped, " _Derek_ ".

"I'm here."

Stiles was confused and discombobulated, for lack of a better word, and he gaped at the werewolf who was kneeling beside him on his bed, hovering with a worried look on his face.

"Derek?" Stiles asked, blinking owlishly in the dark room.

"I'm here, it's okay," he whispered, reaching out to touch Stiles' cheek tentatively. 

It felt so _real_.

But his dreams were so fucking frustratingly real lately, it all felt as close to reality Stiles was going to get.

He surged up and caught Derek's mouth with his own, playing his tongue across Derek's mouth immediately, prompting him to open for him. Derek made a soft noise in the back of his throat and gave in immediately, allowing Stiles' tongue in, giving him everything he wanted. 

"I want it to be real," Stiles mumbled into Derek's mouth and wrapped his arms under Derek's and awkwardly tugged him into the bed, flipped him onto his back (or Derek went willingly, whichever) so Stiles could straddle him.

Stiles thought his dreams would make Derek a little more manageable for him to handle. 

Stiles could feel Derek harden between his legs, under his ass and he ground down, dragging a strangled groan from Derek. Stiles reached for the bottom of Derek's t-shirt and tugged it up over his abs, then broke the kiss to try to pull it over Derek's head. 

Derek shook his head, as if clearing it, and then reached up to grab Stiles by the shoulders and shook him a little. "Stiles," Derek said in a clear voice. "Stop this."

Stiles blinked. 

"You're not feeling okay," Derek continued while Stiles stared down at him, trying to process his words. Derek was still hard under him and Stiles' hips wanted to move and thrust like crazy.

"I"m… " Stiles started. "I'm not asleep, am I?"

Derek shook his head. "No."

"Omigod," Stiles said in a rush and covered his face with his hands. He slumped forward and Derek folded him down onto his own chest, holding him close. Stiles could hear Derek's heart thundering in his chest, felt the heat from the flush through his shirt, could still taste Derek on his tongue. 

Shit.

"Is there something we need to talk about?" Derek asked carefully, keeping Stiles held close. Sties could hear the wariness in his voice, like he expected Stiles to bolt or pull out a knife or… something.

"Um, I'm not possessed, if that's what you're worried about," Stiles offered. Derek twisted his head to look down at Stiles who sighed.

He pushed up from Derek who released him easily. "I'm just horny, apparently."

Derek stared at him.

"I've been having the most intense dreams these past few days. Like, surround sound and 3-D intense."

Derek kept staring.

"About you." 

More staring.

"Um."

"So you're not possessed?" Derek asked, voice tight.  "Only by my lust for you," Stiles tried to joke but once he saw the look in Derek's eyes it fell flat.

Derek's cock, however, didn't.

Before Stiles could blink their positioned were reversed and he was staring up while Derek looked down at him hungrily. Stiles' legs fell open and Derek fit himself between them, pressing against Stiles' re-interested erection.

"You've been dreaming about me for days?" Derek asked roughly. "Wanting me?"

Stiles arched up against Derek's chest. "More than wanting. Having. Or, rather, you had me. _Everywhere_."

"Where?"

"In the Preserve, in a kitchen while I was trying to cook you goddamn breakfast, in a harness—"

"Harness?" Derek cut in, his eyes getting a little glassy. 

Stiles turned his head and whispered into Derek's ear so his lips tickled the skin there, "I couldn't move, was blind folded, and you wouldn't let me talk. I was totally at your whims."

Derek shuddered over him and a sound ripped from his throat that was guttural and dark and primal. Stiles canted his hips just from the feeling it sent through his body. He could feel his boxers getting thick and messy with precome.

"Derek, I'm in full control of myself right now. But I might not be if you don't fuck me soon. _For real_. Do you want to hear about how many times I've jerked off this week from having you in my head? How I woke up one morning with my fingers in my ass? How—"

Derek growled and claimed Stiles' mouth with a hard kiss, teeth clacking and Stiles could feel slight points on Derek's, but he didn't care, wasn't scared. Stiles once again reached for Derek's shirt and this time Derek let him pull it over his head and throw it somewhere off the bed. 

Stiles brought his legs up and held onto Derek's hips tightly with his thighs, trying to pull Derek close to him as he dry humped against Derek's hard body. Even rubbing himself off against Derek with still two layers of clothes between them was more amazing than just dreaming about the whole thing.

Derek snarled and wrenched off Stiles to stand. Stiles whimpered but Derek only moved to push his own pants open and off, quicker than Stiles could follow with his eyes. Then Derek reached out and pulled Stiles' t-shirt off and damn-near shredded his boxers, leaving at least a couple long rips in them, ensuring them for the trash.

Stiles moaned when Derek came back to settle between his legs, so much hotter than Stiles was expecting. Stiles was smooth as fucking porcelain compared to Derek's all-over body hair and the contrast in that feeling was enough to get Stiles off for sure. 

Derek reached between them and grasped both of their cocks loosely with one hand, using their pre come to spread around for a smoother feeling. Stiles cried out when Derek flicked his thumb over Stiles' head, sending pleasure to what felt like every single nerve in his body.

"Shhh," Derek shushed him, casting a quick look at Stiles' closed bedroom door.

"Dad's working overnight. Figured you would hear him. Or not hear him, in this case," Stiles said, running his palms up and down Derek's arms, his neck, his back, digging into Derek's ass.

Derek grunted, then snarked, "I'm a little distracted at the moment, don't know if you can tell."

He stroked their cocks together while leaning in to tongue the line of Stiles' jaw up to Stiles' ear and sucking the lobe into his mouth.

Stiles felt hot all over, like his whole body was coming apart into pieces and he couldn't think straight. But he knew he didn't want Derek's hand.

"Fuck me," he groaned out, reaching between them to still Derek's hand on them. Derek looked up, surprised.

"Stiles—"

Stiles grabbed Derek by the chin and made him focus. "I woke up with my _fingers_ in my _ass_ just dreaming about you, Derek. I want you in me right fucking now."

Derek grabbed the base of his cock and gripped it tightly, staving off what would have been a very sudden orgasm, and bit out a, "Jesus fucking Christ, Stiles. You can't just _say_ shit like that."

"I just did," Stiles threw back and reached under the spare pillow on his bed for the lube where he'd been stashing it this week. He clicked it open and poured more than a generous amount on the fingers of one hand, then tilted his hips up to get a better reach. Derek sat back a little while keeping the one hand around the base of his cock and the other on Stiles' thigh, keeping it pushed back so he could see what Stiles was doing.

Derek's mouth dropped open and his breathing got shallow as his eyes followed Stiles' fingers, first one then two right away, disappear into his hole. Stiles could feel the nails from Derek's hand on his thigh get suspiciously sharper but he didn't say a word. If anything his cock leaked more pre come onto his belly in response and Stiles declared himself, right then and there, a kinky motherfucker.

Derek chanced taking his hand off his cock and added a finger to Stiles' two, pushing in with him and letting his eyes slide closed from the tightness, the heat and the slick and the _smell_ , the fucking smell of Stiles that he never wanted to wash from his hand.

"Put another one in," Stiles told him breathlessly. Derek did what he was told and added a second finger on the next push. They pumped in and out of Stiles' stretching him and if he didn't know there was something better Derek would dare say he'd be happy for a good long time watching how Stiles ass was so eager for just his fingers.

"I need you now," Stiles ground out after what felt like _too fucking long_. He handed the lube over to Derek and started to flip over but Derek stilled him with a hand on his belly, right where Stiles' cock leaked.

"Like this," Derek grunted and ran his hands through the mess. He brought his hand to his lips and inhaled the smell. Stiles watched him, mouth agape, and Derek thought that if he didn't know better he'd broken Stiles' brain. 

Instead of sucking his fingers he brought the hand to his cock and stroked himself lightly, then added some lube. He edged his knees under Stiles' ass and pushed him up so his hole was just right. Stiles held himself so incredibly still and breathless for the moment; didn't realize he wasn't breathing until Derek finished pushing in and bottomed out.

Stiles gasped in and _clenched_ around Derek, keeping him locked in position while he adjusted. Stiles' eyes rolled back in his head and his hands spasmed around his body. Derek reached out and grabbed them, lacing their fingers together until Stiles relaxed around him and nodded for him to continue. 

Derek kept one set of their hands linked while the other gripped Stiles around the thigh to keep him in position when Derek started thrusting.

He started gentle, testing the boundaries and Stiles was patient. 

For about a minute.

Derek was just thinking it was weird how quiet Stiles was being but he was just getting his bearings, then he was babbling out a running commentary of some nonsense, cursing and a mixture of compliments and begging to Derek.

"Fucking fuck, Derek you're so good and your cock is amazing Jes—I just want to run my tongue over every single place on your fucking gorgeous body and eat fucking pancakes off it while you keep your dick in me _oh fuck_ , Derek how are you so incredible at this why haven't we been _ahhh_ doing this forever…"

Derek heard the words like blowing air into a balloon, feeling them inflate around them until it was close to popping from pressure.

"Stiles," Derek breathed, breaking into Stiles' stream of words. "Touch yourself."

Stiles' eyes lit up like Derek just suggested they go buy ice cream and a puppy at the same time. It only took two, three, _four_ hard strokes and Stiles was clenching his white hot heat around Derek as his body seized and he came all over himself, up to his neck. 

Derek growled and lunged down to suckle at that spot while his hips thrusted erratically. Stiles' come and his neck and his ass and Stiles whispering, " _Come in me,_ " into his ear and Derek was gone, snarling against Stiles' skin.

Derek filled Stiles with his come and then collapsed on top of him, relishing in how Stiles cradled him with his whole body and tilted his head so Derek could keep his face pressed into Stiles' neck.

Stiles actually whined when Derek rolled himself off Stiles, worried he was too heavy for him. Derek grabbed him by the waist and pulled Stiles so he was sprawled over himself, instead. Stiles straddled Derek and the position left him open so Derek's come slid out of him, back near Derek's. Stiles reached back and pouted without realizing it, trying to scoop it up. He brought his fingers up and suckled on them. Derek didn't think he'd be doing all that again in the near future but his cock twitched with some life at the sight anyhow.

"I'll make it okay again," Derek whispered to Stiles, knowing what he wanted. In the meantime he reached back with his own hand and slid a couple fingers into Stiles, letting him clench down on them.

Stiles finally relaxed against Derek, laying his head on Derek's chest, right over his heart.

"So…" Derek started, then wasn't sure what to say next. 

Stiles tipped his head up and gave Derek a sleepy smile. "S'just like a dream come true."


End file.
